Snow Claes And The Seven Cyborg Sprites
by Sheo Darren
Summary: The GSG girls' stage play of the classic fairy tale. Massive AU and OC humor fic. HilshireXTrielaXPinocchio. Triela acting so hot, she gives you 3rd degree burns. Need I say more? Chapter 7! The Great Big Final Battle! R&R please!
1. PreProduction

**Pre-Production Meeting**

**  
**"Okay," the clipboard-toting Mireille Bouquet told the assembled cast of _Gunslinger Girl_ plus extras from Noir and Full Metal Panic as well as various OCs, "Is everyone here?"

Mixed chorus of cheers, boos and grumbles sound off. In the corner of the crowd, Pinocchio is trying not to be noticed by all the hostile-looking mechanical body commandos, especially the blonde girl he'd knocked out with a lucky punch that one time. She looked to be the sort who carried grudges.

Not at all disheartened, Mireille continued. "Good. Simmer down and listen up well. A stage play based on Snow White will be our presentation for 's Christmas 2006. Let's get it done right, shall we?"

"Why not A Christmas Carol?" a familiar dissenter posed. "We can have Hilshire as Scrooge. He'd be perfect for the role."

"That's for next year, Triela-chan."

Both Triela and Hilshire grimaced, the former at the cutesy appendage Mireille added to her name, the latter at his future role as grumpiness personified.

Mireille begins ticking off items on her clipboard aloud. "Okay. First off, and most importantly, we have Freda Claes Johansson as Snow White."

The star of the play didn't even bother to look up from the hardbound copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales. (The original, uncut, meant-for-adults-as-a-serious-historical-compilation-of-local-myths version. Where Rapunzel and the Prince graphically consummated their first meeting with more than just kisses and a maid is boiled alive in a vat of oil. Claes claimed it was a scholarly familiarization exercise. Everyone else wasn't so sure. Luke, especially, was a bit scared.)

"How did you happen on that decision?" Jean was not protesting, just curious as to the choice of actresses.

"It's necessity. Snow White had black hair. Only Claes, Angie and Liesel have dark hair. Angie's too small and cute, and she wanted to be a Sprite." That was what the Dwarves in this version of the play were called. "And this story wouldn't be as interesting with Liesel as Snow White as. We want people to take notice and enjoy."

"Good point," Jean conceded. Aside, Claes wasn't so sure if the adults were praising her or making fun of her. She suspected the latter but kept quiet. Revenge was a dish best served cold.

"Thank you, Jean." Mireille continued. "The sprites are 'Etta as Bashful, Rico as Happy, Angie as Sleepy, Petrushka as Doc, Beatrice as Sneezy, Carol as Dopey and Terra as Grumpy."

The last muttered something beneath her breath at the stupid (and apt) role slated for her.

"Elena and Elsa are court ladies. Liesel is the dead Mother of Snow White. And last but not least–"

"WAIT!"

The sea of mechanical body children instantly parted as a particularly furious tanned blonde girl stomped through.

Steam jetted out of Triela's ears. Her ponytails almost stood on end in fury. "Why am **I** the evil stepmother?" she angrily demanded.

"Because it fits you," both Mireille and (as expected) Hilshire answered at the same time with all due honesty and not one whit of rancor.

Triela glared at her handler for being so (un)helpful. _Stupid Victor…_

_Hah,_ Hilshire thought in rather childish glee, _this is better than upping her conditioning…_

"Now for the boys." Mireille smiled rather wickedly. "Obviously, having Claes as Snow White automatically makes Luke her Prince Charming."

Meir a.k.a. Emilio, Giuseppe (the Amalgam cyborg, not the Section Two handler) and Alpha poked and elbowed the rightly embarrassed Luke in the ribs.

"Ow! Hey! Stop that! You guys…"

"Giuseppe plays the kind-hearted hunter. Meir will play the role of the magic mirror."

The first boy went "Good enough, I guess." The second went "Eh?"

"Alpha and Aharon will play court nobles alongside Elena and Elsa…"

"**BUT I WANTED BIG BROTHER AS A PARTNER!!"** complained Elena.

Giuseppe grimaced. Henrietta frowned.

"Sorry, boys," teasingly added Mireille, "But you won't get paired with your girlfriends in this one."

Giuseppe, Henrietta, Elena, Meir and Rico all blushed or put on long faces of disappointment. Everyone else chuckled.

"Finally, playing the King and husband to the evil stepmother Queen," here Mireille barely suppressed the urge to laugh aloud, though she did gesture grandly to the (un)lucky lad who didn't see it coming: "Pinocchio!"

Everyone did a double-take and went "WHAT??"

The loudest, of course, was Triela (though the shocked Pinocchio came in a close second). **"WHY DO I HAVE TO BE PAIRED WITH HIM?"**

"Because the script said so," Mireille said simply.

"Who wrote this stupid script anyway?"

**  
**Out of Triela's immediate lethal range, eight tons of invisible Venom battle robot wrapped around him, Rolito snickered meanly.

**  
**"For the adults: Marco Toni will be the narrator, Jean is the stage manager, Chiefs Lorenzo and Fermi (since no one wants Draghi appearing here to spoil the fun) and General Bradley are the producers, Priscilla and Elenora assists me and I direct. Everyone else plays stage hands and support crew. Does everyone know their roles now?"

Various responses, some negative, some positive. Terra swore like a sailor while the rest of the "Sprites" celebrated and Elena pestered Giuseppe. Meanwhile Alpha, Aharon and Meir chased the frantically fleeing Pinocchio. The high mark, however, was Triela. The blonde girl practically smoldered with rage as she swore revenge upon the thousandth-time-damned scriptwriter who forced her into this horrid role alongside the guy who poked her eye out the last time they rumbled.

Mireille translated this hubbub as a general "Yes" and clapped aloud.

"Excellent! Let's get this done, shall we? Break a leg, everyone!"

_I'd break the _scriptwriter's_ leg,_ Triela hotly thought.

**  
**_And so begins…_

**  
****Snow Claes And The Seven Cyborg Sprites**

**  
**A Gunslinger Girl Christmas Presentation

**  
Starring**

Freda Claes Johansson as Snow White

Luke as Prince Charming

Triela as the Evil Stepmother Witch

**  
Stage Play Written by**

Rolito Miranda

**  
Produced by**

Chiefs Lorenzo and Pietro Fermi of the Italian Social Welfare Service/Political Warfare Division

General Bradley Nowell of the United States Army Special Operations Command

**  
Directed by**

Mireille Bouquet

**  
Ultra Directed by**

Sheo Darren

**  
Ultra Ultra Directed by**

Suzumiya Haruhi

**  
Original Characters provided by**

Nachtsider (Aharon, Meir)

Colonel Marksman (Carol, Terra, their handlers)

Sintendo (Gen. Bradley Nowell)

Sheo Darren (Rolito, Giuseppe, Elena)

Boomer Gonzales (Alpha)

**  
Disclaimer**

Neither Rolito nor Sheo owns Gunslinger Girl, Noir or Full Metal Panic. This is a fan fiction and a parody.


	2. The Play Begins

**Notes**

As there are two people named Giuseppe in this story, I will refer to Henrietta's handler as Jose (dang, I finally had to call him that…) and Giuseppe to my OC.

Also, I made a minor mistake in the previous Pre-Production Meeting. The character Sneezy will be played by Beatrice. (Apt, ne?) Elena will take Beatrice's place as a court lady.

**  
****Warning**

This fic will feature canon characters acting out of character and imply sexually suggestive overtures between minors. (We all know who gets paired with who, now, don't we?)

**  
**Now, on with the play!

**  
****The Play Begins  
**

**  
**Marco puffed as he manhandled the massive book into a better position against his body. He managed to tuck the leather-bound spine into the crook of his right elbow and pull the covers partly open. The 600-plus pages inside were mostly blank.

_This thing is a monster! It has to weigh at least ten pounds! What the heck was Rolito and Mireille thinking when they assigned me this prop? What the heck was __**I**__ thinking when I accepted it?_

"At least it doesn't try to eat my fingers or summons armies of darkness," Rolito had told him. "Wouldn't those be really troublesome?"

Trumpets blared. That was his cue. Gathering his wits and skill about him, Marco spoke out in his best storytelling voice.

**  
"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a place called the Kingdom of–"**

**  
**He blinked. _Is my eyesight going __**that**__ bad? No? No…_

Unable to believe the audacity of the stage play writer, Marco ruefully stated:

**  
"The Kingdom of Pasta…"**

**  
**"Haven't I heard that story before?" the curious Angie asked her companions backstage.

**  
**"You copied this from Patricia's book and Marco's original story," Mireille accused Rolito over their secure radio. She could almost imagine the chuckling man holding up his palms in surrender.

"(Guilty as charged. Admittedly, plagiarism is the first rule of stage play writing.)"

"I thought that applied to scholarship and not stage play."

"(It applies to a lot of subjects. Besides, this is a parody, as Colonel Marksman corrected Sheo Darren.)"

"Who're Colonel Marksman and Sheo Darren?"

"(It's a long and complicated story.)"

Jean cleared his throat to signal silence and put an end to what appeared to him as flirting.

**  
**_Jealous bastard,_ Rolito thought from inside his invisible Venom. _Ah, well. I preferred Kirika, anyway. Too bad she went with Sagara._

**  
"The Kingdom of Pasta was ruled by a King and a Queen."**

**  
**Elena and Elsa stood opposite Aharon and Alpha. All four were dressed in fancy outfits.

"Why am I in this play again?" Al whispered to Aharon.

Pinocchio and Liesel sat side by side on identical thrones beneath the burning glare of the candelabra. Both were regally dressed. Pino also wore a very neutral expression. He was nervous; so nervous, in fact, that he didn't look nervous.

**  
"Their daughter, the Princess, was named Claes."**

**  
**Claes walked on stage. Her ankle-length gown was the purest virgin white cotton. Her eyeglasses were conspicuously absent and so brought the full force of her strikingly mature face and liquid purple eyes to bear upon whoever she favored with her attention.

**  
**Watching from backstage, Luke sighed wistfully. Giuseppe and Meir promptly restarted their "teasing elbow" session. The startled Israeli yelped.

"Hey! Stop that already!"

**  
"Princess Claes was the most beautiful and the also kindest girl in the land."**

**  
**"Mother. Father." Claes curtsied slightly. She kissed Liesel on the cheek in the manner of a respectful daughter, turned to do the same for her "father".

Pinocchio visibly flinched away.

Suppressing a smirk, Claes fulfilled her mission's first objective by (really) planting a (slightly) wet one on Pino's cheek. Through her lips, pressed lightly against his face, she detected the assassin's minute shudder and almost smiled. Certainly she did so in her mind.

_There, Triela. You owe me a big one._

**  
**_Thanks a lot, Claes. You're a real pal._

**  
**In the front row of the audience, Aurora fainted.

**  
**Watching from the backstage, Luke growled as he fingered his big Jericho. The rest of the cyborg boys kept their distance now.

**  
"However, one day, the Queen, Claes' mother, died. The King mourned deeply for his beloved wife."**

**  
**"My dearly departed wife," the black-clad Pinocchio insincerely mumbled as stage hands Amadeo and Lukas carried Liesel, covered in a tarp, off Stage.

"Put some feeling into it," Amadeo half-joked, half-advised in a low voice. Pino did not seem to hear him and instead continued in a monotonous tone.

"…I will never marry…"

"Again," Claes softly murmured. Blinking, Pino nevertheless did as advised– at least, what he thought he had been advised to do.

"For my dearly departed wife, I will never marry…"

The audience stared at the inexplicable repeat. Claes barely stopped herself from shaking her head.

**  
"Then, an evil sorceress came to the Kingdom of Pasta…"**

**  
**Sharp clicks got everyone to look. They immediately fell to staring with dumbstruck expressions reminiscent of Fresian cows placidly grazing in a New Zealand meadow.

All expected the tempestuous Triela to at least drag her heels while performing a despised task. Some had even bet that she might walk out of the play. Indeed the blond had been highly tempted to do so despite risking an overload of "kicked puppy" angst from the disappointed Sprites sans Elsa and Terra.

But, after spending the vast majority of the practice period either pumping buckshot into target silhouettes at twenty yards (for extra incentive, she followed Rico's advice and decorated her targets with photocopied mug shots of her pet peeve– Hilshire, namely, though there were half a dozen of Pinocchio's as well. She got a lot of headshots that day) or smearing poor Meir all over the sparring ring, Triela underwent a fit of genius.

_Everyone is expecting me to lose my cool, throw a tantrum and inadvertently make a laughingstock out of myself._

_I wonder how they would look like if I disappointed them…_

Her fertile mind hatched a plan. Not only would she deny her malefactors their expected entertainment, but she would also give them a taste of their own medicine. Roles would reverse, hunter turn into the hunted, and Triela emerge victorious. Not to mention popular.

Ah, yes, revenge was a dish best served with the head of your enemy upon a silver platter.

**  
**_"You mean a dish best served cold."_

"_Shut up, Claes."_

**  
**And so, everyone stared as a goddess set foot upon the make-believe fairy tale stage, turning it oh so very real.

A golden waterfall gracefully spilled from the head it magnificently crowned to break upon smoothly bare shoulders into shimmering rivulets of precious softness. Her sparsely but skillfully powdered cheeks energetically competed with her ruby red-moistened lips in bringing splashes of brilliant color to her already dazzling face.

Her clothing perfectly fitted her demeanor and body. The turquoise blue, backless, spaghetti-strap gown was a second, semi-transparent skin that clung tight across her bosom and waist. High heels clicked smartly upon the wooden planks of the stage, her feet gliding in the manner of a supermodel, steps practiced, pace her own.

Simply put, Triela was absolutely lovely.

All the boys stared. So did the men. Even the ones with girlfriends or fiancées like Marco Toni, Patricia being in the audience at his invitation. Even the happily married ones like Fermi. Even the half-wizened, cigar-chomping widower, General Bradley. Even Jean, ice-blooded, frost-hearted Jean– but then he had Jose and Rico and Mireille melting his heart for years now.

**  
**Inside his invisible Venom robot, Rolito proceeded to smack himself on the head and verbally castigate his reflection. _What will Jess say to hear her Kuya is a lolicon?_ He wasn't so sure about the answer anymore, Triela's looks doing a good job of scrambling coherent thoughts that didn't involve ideas like naked necks and damn-but-she-sure-is-hawt-for-a-thirteen-year-old-girl.

_Well, I'm thankful __**I'm**__ still inside my Arm Slave._

**  
**That was because all the girls proceeded to express displeasure at seeing their respective objects of affection ogling Triela. Their reactions ranged from cute pouts (Henrietta, obviously and unbeatably the champ at inflicting this guilt trip, closely followed by her "disciples" Elena and Angelica); Petrushka's disdainful sniff–_ I'm __**much**__ better_ _at the art of seduction than this upstart blond wanna-be_–, the redhead being rather disappointed at 'Sandro's wandering, unfaithful eyes; Carol bursting into outright sobbing; Elenora pinching her husband's buttocks; and, on Rico and Elsa's parts, rather dangerous temptations involving guns.

Sadly, there was no warning at all for Luke. Claes didn't have her eyeglasses on, so she couldn't have the dramatic lens flare so favored by theatre.

Exceptions were Terra, who muttered a "Kill me now, that stupid halfie's gone nuts, and so has the rest of the world"; Liesel and Beatrice, apparently immune due their unique training and psyches– though were those glints of envious possessiveness regarding their handles that briefly marred their level gazes? Only they would know; and Mireille, who could appreciate ironic situations even if she was the target of the joke.

"Who bought her that dress?" the awed Jose (the handler, though even the cyborg boy was also staring) asked his brother.

"Apparently, Hilshire did."

"No way!"

They both turned disbelieving looks on their German colleague.

Hilshire was by now doing a good imitation of an ostrich burying its head into the sand, save that he substituted his broad hand for soil. _What was I thinking when I bought her that dress?_

**  
**_"I would absolutely __**love**__ to have a gown like __**that**__!"_

"_Really, Ratiel?"_

"_Of course! Will you be a dear, Victor, and get me that as a birthday gift?"_

"_Sure."_

**  
**The former Victor Hartman grimaced. _Right. __**That.**__ Ratiel, you still haunt me from the grave through the girl I named after you…_

Looking through the cracks in between his fingers, he caught Triela winsomely sending him a flying kiss.

**  
**_Tit for tat, dearest Prince Charming Victor of mine. Now we're even._

**  
**_That's it. Soon as this play ends, I swear I'm really upping her conditioning._

**  
**Marco, somehow regaining his composure, bravely continued (though in an admittedly weaker, distracted voice).

**  
"The evil sorceress beguiled the King into marrying her…"**

**  
**Triela peremptorily sashayed over to her intended victim.

Pinocchio was pale as milk. His eyes were just about to pop out of their sockets, they were so huge. He reflexively sank himself into his throne as much as possible to present the smallest possible target. _I can't run away, those cyborgs would just run me down, and besides, why would I run away from the likes of her– I'm not afraid of her! She doesn't scare me!_

_I hate women…_

"Stay away from me," he warned.

Smiling broadly, Triela stood before Pino, then raised her left leg and slowly, sexily sat herself upon his lap.

"Hey, Hun," she softly murmured into his ear.

The legendary assassin's impossible cool irrecoverably shattered into a million pieces. Pinocchio whimpered like a little boy lost in a department store.

Aurora, just waking up from earlier, instantly fainted again.

Hilshire felt an urge to slug Pinocchio, kill Rolito and spank Triela.

_And thank you, all you writers of Harlequin Mills and Boone,_ a very satisfied Triela thought, her day and personal vendettas complete,_ for allowing me to strike back at this jerk __**and**__ Hilshire in the best way possible._

**  
**"That wasn't part of the script," Rolito dazedly noted. "Ah, well. It's still very good extemporaneous acting on Triela's part, even if she did translate her role and character persona rather freely..."

Then he bopped his head on the nearest instrument panel. "Ow. What the hell am I saying? This is wrong, wrongwrongwrong…"

**  
"The King promptly fell under the spell of the sorceress. He married her and made her his new Queen."**

**  
**Triela, very at home on her makeshift throne (she was still seated on Pinocchio's lap, finding the quivering boy's lap much comfier than the cushions of the queen's throne next door), snapped her fingers almost lazily. "Magic mirror! Come to me!"

Meir scurried onstage. The boy carried a wooden frame taller and wider than he was. Its varnished wood sported intricate carvings. He stuck his head out of its opening.

"Yesss, Massster." Meir slurred the letter _s_ for his speech in the manner of Dr. Frankenstein's hunchbacked assistant Igor. "Coming, Massster…"

In the audience, Kathryn chuckled at her inventive ward. _That's my Meir…_

Triela made a show out of flicking a stray lock of hair over her shoulder. The male half of the audience found themselves hypnotized by the gesture. The female half growled at their partners' distraction.

"Mirror, Mirror, held up by a dolt's hands, who is the fairest within this castle?"

"Why, it isss you, Your Evilnesss." Then Meir, realizing his irreverent slip, prepared to get wrestled into submission via pain hold in a rehash their usual Krav Maga sessions.

But Triela only smirked at that impromptu, apt title. "Excellent!" She almost preened. "Now, tell me, Mirror, who is the fairest **of them all**?"

"Ah… do you really want to know, Your Wickednesss?"

"That was a rhetorical question, Mirror. Of course I want to know."

"I **am** insured, right?"

_That's one of my better jokes,_ Rolito decided.

"Yes, yes, now answer my question."

Meir's dismay was pretty much realistic. "Claesss..."

Now that Triela had slotted into her character's persona, she was easily the best actress amongst the group. She leapt off Pinocchio (the relieved boy let out the breath he'd been holding in), quite hysterical yet apparently still good-looking despite playing the part of a psycho.

"What? Claes? That useless four-eyed bookworm who can't give me good psychiatric advice whenever I barge into her room and catch her reading porn?"

_That wasn't in the script, either,_ Rolito realized, grimacing.

**  
**Backstage with Claes and Luke:

"No, Luke, I don't read porn."

"I thought so."

"You don't sound too convinced…"

**  
**"You lied to me, Mirror! I thought you said I was the fairest in this castle!"

"I did. But you didn't ask me if Claes was inside the castle. She's out shopping with the court ladies. So you see, I didn't lie."

"Argh!" Triela stomped prettily– on Pinocchio's toes. The boy winced. "I wanted Claes dead!"

"I'm a magic mirror, Your Angriness," Meir flippantly reminded her, "Not a blue-skinned genie of a wishing lamp."

"Silence, knave!"

**  
"The sorceress concocted an evil plan. She went to the King–"**

**  
**Pinocchio braced himself for the returning horror.

"Oh, darling," Triela cooed as she sexily sat on his lap again. She further slipped a smooth arm around the back of his neck and leaned very close to his face. The act gave her target an unasked-for view straight into her dress. "I have a **favor** to ask of you…"

Pino shivered.

"I feel sick, you see." She put on a good pout that showed off the fullness of her rosy red lips. "You don't want me to be sick, don't you?" Her pout turned into a mischievous grin. "I'm **naughty** when I'm sick."

The older, female part of the audience had to chuckle at that threat.

Backstage it took Jose, Jean, Amadeo, Ferro, Priscilla and Bianchi to hold the wordlessly furious Hilshire in place, Massi having been strangled and trampled earlier when he accidentally got in the German's way.

"No," Pinocchio whimpered in assent.

"Oh, that is so sweet of you. But I can't get better if I don't get any medicine. You **will** get me that medicine, now, wouldn't you?"

"What… is it you… need?"

Triela beamed winningly. "Claes' heart."

**  
"Triela reveals her G.D. Wallez-ish cannibal intent. What will happen to Claes? Escape, of course. It would be disappointing to have this fic end in just three chapters. And that's in the next in the next installment of…"**

**  
****Snow Claes And The Seven Cyborg Sprites**

**  
**A Gunslinger Girl Christmas Presentation

**  
Disclaimer**

Neither Rolito nor Sheo owns Gunslinger Girl, Noir or Full Metal Panic. This is a fan fiction and a parody.

**  
**"Stupid lines," Marco grumbles. "This makes me feel like I'm just a fictional character in a crappy story written by an amateur college writer…"

**  
**_Ah, Marco,_ Rolito thought with a wan smile, _If you and the others only knew…_


	3. Flight of the Princess

**Warning**

This fic will feature canon characters acting out of character and imply sexually suggestive overtures between minors. (We all know who gets paired with who, now, don't we?)

**  
**Now, on with the play! Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

**  
****Part Two**

**Flight of the Princess**

**  
"The Queen, set in her dastardly path, called for the greatest Hunter in the Kingdom."**

**  
**Triela, comfy seated on Pinocchio's lap, further leaned back on her supposed husband, intentionally rubbing her bare back (her dress was backless) against Pino's front. Pino shuddered.

She snapped her fingers. "Hunter!"

Giuseppe entered. He wore a bright neon orange hunting jacket over drab olive-and-brown clothing. His kukri rode in a side scabbard. A brace of knives hung on various sheathes on his body. He strode towards the thrones with a calm confidence.

**  
**"Isn't that a **modern** hunting jacket?" Mireille asked Rolito.

"(Yes. In the off chance that the American Vice President might be watching…)"

"What?"

"(Did I neglect to tell you that the Daily Show With Jon Stewart is one of my viewing staples?)"

"…You're a strange man."

"(Yes. I guess I am.)"

**  
**"Hunter! You are the most loyal subject of the royal throne. Are you not?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, I am." Aside, Giuseppe thought, _she's really getting into the spirit of this play…_

He fell on one knee and proffered his kukri to Triela in the manner of a knight. "Here is my sword, Your Majesty. Please take it as a token of my loyalty. Be careful, though," he warned as she took his weapon. "It's very sharp and heavier on the right side by five grams…"

Triela swung the kukri several times. Impressed, she smiled quite foxily

"You have an impressive resume, Hunter. You've never failed a mission. You have slain many enemies of the Crown." Her sleek fingers rose one by one. "The man-eating troll that lives beneath the bridge, the Big Bad Wolf that went after Little Red Riding Hood, BB Wolf's twin brother who went after the Three Little Pigs, the Ice Queen, the Giant of the Beanstalk, Saddam Hussein, Osama bin Laden, tax evaders…

"In addition, you have never disobeyed an order. You are perfect for the vital mission I wish to assign you."

"What is it, Your Majesty?" Giuseppe asked.

"I want you to take the Princess deep into the forests far from here."

"Princess Claes?"

"Yes."

"Is it a picnic?"

"Oh, no, not at all, my dear Hunter." Triela's smile broadened. "You see, once you bring Claes there, I want you to kill her."

"What?"

"Oh, and after you're done with it, do cut her heart out and bring it back to me."

"What for?"

Without warning, Triela thrust the kukri into Giuseppe's face– and accidentally nicked the tip of his nose. A crimson droplet seeped out of the tiny wound.

"Ow," the boy mumbled beneath his breath.

**  
**In his Venom, Rolito winced. _Sorry for that, Giuseppe…_

Backstage, Henrietta and Elena angrily looked for their respective weapons.

**  
**"Sorry," Triela sincerely, if quietly, apologized through her affected grin before returning fully into her character. "Are you second guessing me, Hunter?"

"Ah, no, Your Majesty…"

"Good!" She returned his kukri handle first. "Then fulfill the mission I have given you with haste and expertise. Oh, and put antiseptic on your wound before you bandage it. It might get infected."

"Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Majesty…"

**  
"After having his injury tended to, the Hunter reluctantly sought out Princess Claes…"**

**  
**"Princess Claes?"

"Yes, Hunter?"

Giuseppe struggled with words. An admittedly shy boy, he was never really good at talking with girls. The only two girls he'd talked to were his sister and Henrietta– and 'Etta put half a dozen bullets in his torso then beat him up and kicked him in the groin when they first met. Plus his nose wound stung.

That and Claes was quite a looker in her gown of vestal white.

Simply put, all the stress piled up on him made Giuseppe forget his lines. He and Claes just looked at each other for the longest time.

"Ask me to go to the forest with you," Claes helpfully whispered, her lips barely moving. Giuseppe took her advice literally and declared aloud:

"Would you like to go out with me?"

The audience blinked.

Claes stared.

Giuseppe blushed.

Henrietta and Elena gaped.

Luke growled.

Rolito buried his face in his palm. "Can't you think of a better way to say that?"

"Ah…" Claes gathered herself. "All right, Hunter. I'll go out with you."

Lights out led to an invisible ruckus as the stage crew rushed to change the props.

**  
**Backstage…

"Giuseppe…"

"Big brother!"

"That wasn't what I meant, 'Etta, Elena… and Luke, please stop giving me such a scary look… Claes, could you tell him off…"

**  
"The Hunter and Princess Claes went on their date– err, I mean, to the dark forest far away…"**

**  
**"Rolito…"

"_That wasn't in my script. That was Marco slipping. Honest!"_

**  
**Claes, Giuseppe only a few steps behind, primly knelt before a pure white flower planted in a pot. "What a beautiful flower…"

Triela's voice hissed out of the hidden stage speakers. _"I want you to kill her. Oh, and after you're done with it, do cut her heart out and bring it back to me."_

Giuseppe reached for his kukri. The blade easily hissed out of its sheath to hover over Claes's head like the sword of Damocles.

Surprised, Claes looked over her shoulder. "Hunter?"

The kukri wavered before falling to his side. Giuseppe bowed. "Forgive me, Princess. I was ordered by your stepmother the Queen to bring you to this place– and to kill you."

"What? My stepmother sent you to kill me? Why?"

"She wishes to eat your heart. She says it will make her better."

"Forgive me if I doubt the medicinal value of eating the human heart."

Giuseppe had to smile at that improvised joke. "I happen to feel the same way, too."

"So," Claes asked, very simply, "Will you kill me?"

"I will not." He looked away. "You are the kindest person I have ever known. I could never forgive myself if I harmed a single hair on your head."

Giuseppe turned a stricken face to Claes. "Princess. You must flee this Kingdom that is your home. Otherwise, the Queen will not stop until you are dead."

"I cannot!"

"You must. You have no choice. The Queen has your father wrapped around her little finger. No one can stand against her. You must flee."

"But even if I flee, as long as the Queen knows I am alive, she will not stop trying to kill me."

"I will kill a deer and give its heart to the Queen. I will say that it is your heart. She will think you are dead and leave you alone."

"Hunter…"

Giuseppe fell on one knee before Claes. "Princess. One day you may be able to return to your home and make things better again. Until then, live. Now: go."

Claes nodded briefly. "Thank you, Hunter."

Both she and Giuseppe turned into opposite directions and walked out at the same time, their steps perfectly synchronized.

**  
**"Dramatic," Mireille allowed.

"_Thank you,"_ the pleased Rolito said.

**  
"The Hunter slew a deer and took its heart to the Queen, saying it was Princess Claes' heart."**

**  
**"Hunter… this doesn't look like a heart…"

"It's called a hamburger patty, Your Highness. It's a recent culinary innovation."

"That sounds good. Very well: bon appetite!"

Giuseppe sighed as Triela happily dug into the meal. _Even though I know she's just acting, she's still scary…_

**  
**"Note to self," Rolito told his reflection in one of the Venom's many LCD screens. "Up the props department's budget the next time around…"

**  
"Meanwhile, Princess Claes wandered through the dark forest."**

**  
**Claes walked through the maze of cardboard cut-out trees and shrubbery. "Hmm? What's this?"

**  
"She came upon a homely house in the middle of nowhere."**

**  
**"A house? In the middle of nowhere?"

**  
**Lights out. The stage crew rushed to change the props again. Amadeo was heard to mutter, "This is getting tiresome…"

A thud was followed by "Watch it, Lukas!"

"You watch it!"

"Ow! Off my foot, you bloody bastard!"

**  
**"Pity I did not invest in a revolving stage," Rolito mused.

**  
"Curious, Princess Claes went inside to take a look."**

**  
**Claes stared.

The stage crew had hurried, and tripped on each other at it. It showed. While the furniture-decorated stage wasn't exactly unruly, it wasn't aesthetically pleasant or practically arranged.

Shaking her head, Claes pulled up the sleeves of her dress, tied up the hem of her skirt to keep it out of the way, took a deep breath and got down to work.

**  
**"A princess doing manual labor?"

"(Have you ever heard of the term 'enlightened despot'?)"

"That is a lame excuse, Rolito."

"(I agree, Mireille.)"

**  
**Triela snickered. "Who do you think tidies up our room? Not _moi_…"

**  
"Ah… once she was done with tidying up, Princess Claes felt tired so she put together the seven beds and lay herself across them to sleep."**

**  
**She looked so different when asleep. Gentler, her face rendered more delicate by the absence of her glasses and her unnerving, penetrating consciousness, she slept like a babe, without a sound and barely stirring.

**  
**Rolito thought of vestal virgins, celibate women tenders of the sacred fire in the temple of Vesta, Roman goddess of home and hearth, one of the three virgin goddesses in the pantheon. He grimaced.

"Okay, that was a very wrong comparison…"

**  
**Luke felt weird, wrong ideas enter his head. Again he felt the looming, annoying presences of his fellow "gunslinger boys". He also grimaced.

"Luuuuuuke… there is your girlfriend…"

"Opportunity: it only knocks once…"

"You guys… and– Giuseppe? We have to talk…"

"I wasn't saying anything!"

"Hey, Meir, why were we teasing him in the first place?"

**  
"Shortly after Princess Claes fell asleep, the owners of the house returned."**

**  
**Henrietta led the motley bunch, to be followed by Rico, Angelica, Petrushka, Beatrice, Carol and Terra. The last girl was grumbling beneath her breath.

They all wore cute elf costumes even though they were supposed to be dwarves (or dwarfs if one preferred the pre-Tolkien style of spelling.) Instead of the archaic shovels and pickaxes of their spiritual predecessors, though, they carried modern equipment: hardhats, powered drills and jackhammers in an orange color that clashed with their cute clothes.

**  
"They were seven cute Sprites. Oh, and they were cyborgs, too."**

**  
**"Your humor needs work."

"(Strange. It worked for The Adventures of Asahina Mikuru.)"** 1**

"What?"

Mireille listened for about a minute or so to the condensed version of a story about a combat waitress from the future fighting an evil alien magician for the heart of an esper boy before saying in her driest tone, "You've been watching too many cartoons, haven't you, Rolito?"

"(It's anime. There's a vast difference.)"

"Right…"

**  
"The Sprites quickly noticed that there was something wrong with their house."**

**  
**"Someone was in our house!" Henrietta exclaimed.

"And that person fixed it, too," Rico helpfully added.

"Did any one of you hire a maid while my back was turned?" Terra scowled. "Household help is expensive, you know!"

"Even more so with **good** household help," Petrushka agreed.

**  
"The Sprites found Princess Claes sleeping upon their beds."**

**  
**"Here." Beatrice pointed at the sleeping Claes.

"She's pretty," Angelica and Carol murmured together.

"I say, off with her head," Terra stated.

"Strike!" Petrushka happily declared in support.

"Wait!" Henrietta put herself between Claes and her more hostile fellow Sprites. "She cleaned up our house for us. We owe her for that, at least!"

"Henrietta is right," Rico said. Angelica and Carol agreed.

"Let's allow her to stay here!" 'Etta further suggested. "All in favor?"

"Traitor," Petrushka huffily told Beatrice. The silent girl's right hand was up, and so were 'Etta, Rico, Angie and Carol's. "I demand a recount!"

"This is why I hate democracies," Terra muttered, intentionally slurring _cracies_ into _crazies_.

**  
**"I assume those last two lines of commentary were jibes at the current American President?"

"(Why not? Everyone's hit him with potshots. Why can't I? I can even make this play an anti-war movie for the next awards ceremony if I want to.)"

"Stop power-tripping."

"(I'll do that if you stop becoming invincible whenever that 'Amnani' chant plays.)"**1**

"…"

**  
**Claes woke up at that point. "Oh, good evening. I'm sorry for entering your house without permission. I've been running away from my evil stepmother who wishes me dead. May I stay here for a while?"

"Don't worry," Henrietta assured her. "We just voted over it. You can stay!"

"But don't be too smug." Terra grinned rather pettily. "If you're going to live here, you will have to earn your keep."

Claes' right eyebrow rose.

_If Triela can shine in the role of an evil stepmother, I can certainly do the same as Grumpy, _Terra thought.

**  
The fairy tale soon turns into a soap opera-ish plot. It appears that Claes ran away from one evil stepmother only to end up living with another, less evil but still domineering figure. How will she handle her demotion from Snow Claes to Cinderella Claes? Find out in…"**

**  
****Snow Claes And The Seven Cyborg Sprites**

**  
**A Gunslinger Girl Christmas Presentation

**  
Disclaimer**

Neither Rolito nor Sheo owns Gunslinger Girl, Noir or Full Metal Panic. This is a fan fiction and a parody. Do not sue.

**  
"And for everyone who is wondering where GSG's favorite patsy for humor is…"**

**  
**Hilshire grumbled. "What now? Huh? I have to reference some of the jokes in this rotten play? Why me? What? Every chapter has to have a moment where I'm bashed? Bloody hell…"

**  
Chapter Three**

1. Alludes to the first episode of the anime _Suzumiya Haruhi No Yuutsu_. Rolito's condensation basically summarizes the barebones plot of the SOS-dan's featured "movie".

2. Rolito's challenge is a reference to the anime _Madlax_. The protagonist of that show, Madlax, resembles Mireille Bouquet (same character designers.) Madlax becomes invincible whenever the said "Amnani" chant begins playing.

**  
**"There? Happy now? What? I have to do the same for the previous chapter? Oh, come on, now!"

**  
Chapter Two**

1. _"At least it doesn't try to eat my fingers or summons armies of darkness."_ – Rolito is referring to the Monster Book of Monsters from _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ and the Necronomicon from the _Evil Dead_ movies.

2. _Ah, yes, revenge was a dish best served with the head of your enemy upon a silver platter._ – Triela alludes to the Biblical (New Testament) figure John the Baptist, who was indeed decapitated, his head placed on a silver platter to appease one of his enemies.

3. _"You mean a dish best served cold." _– A popular line. The Author was specifically thinking of the Klingons from _Star Trek_.

**  
**"There. Satisfied? God, what else can this Sheo Darren character come up with? Not to mention this Yu Aida person. And who is Nachtsider, and why exactly do I have to worship him?"


	4. Plight of the Princess

**Warning**

This fic will feature canon characters acting out of character and imply sexually suggestive overtures between minors. Also beware of the Author childishly indulging himself in power-tripping.

**  
**Now, on with the play!

**  
****Part Three**

**Plight of the Princess**

**  
****"Despite what you may initially think, there IS a difference between the title of this chapter and the previous. 'Flight' is different from 'Plight'. The previous chapter was about Princess Claes escaping her evil stepmother's insidious plot to murder her. This chapter is about her troubles at her new home."**

**  
**"Rolito…"

"(Language is a very complex thing, Mireille. One must always make himself clear on wordplay, especially with homonyms.)"

"You're obsessive, aren't you?"

"(Masakari has told me that, yes. Then again, she was an obsessive-compulsive type.)"

**  
"Claes found the cottage rather different from the sanctuary she had faintly hoped for."**

**  
**Terra sneered. "Listen up well, slave. You will wake up at two A.M., prepare the clothes, prepare our morning bath, wake us all up, prepare breakfast while we bathe, serve us while we eat, clear the dishes, fix our beds, wash the dirty laundry by hand–"

"There's a Laundromat not half a kilometer down the road," Claes pointed out. "It would be easier if I brought the dirty laundry there."

"What, and waste money when we can have you do it for us for free? And don't interrupt me while I'm talking! Now, where was I– argh!" Terra grimaced. "Look what you've done! You've made me forget what I was saying!"

"Wash the laundry by hand," Claes helpfully suggested.

"Oh, yeah, right, that. Wash the laundry by hand, hang them up to dry in the sun, prepare lunch at exactly twelve noon, wait for us to arrive, serve us while we eat, clear away the dishes, clean the house while we are on our afternoon shift, take in the dried laundry, put it away, prepare our evening baths, prepare our food while we bathe, serve us while we eat, clear the dishes, lock up the house." Terra inhaled and then exhaled. "Those are your established chores."

Claes blinked. "Established chores?"

"Each of us has her own specific requirements."

Terra spent an inordinate amount of time elaborating on such minor details as the difference in temperature of her morning and evening baths (the difference being in the negative 20th power, somewhere around the molecular level.) And when she had run out of ideas, Petruska put in her two cents worth, the redhead mostly concerning procedures that would keep her looks radiant and her Sandro compliant to her will.

"How about using a steam press to smoothen the laundry?" Claes interjected just for variety.

"Why would we want reporters here?"

**  
**"Claes meant a 'steam iron**1**', you English-challenged savage," Rolito grumbled from inside his still-invisible Venom robot.

**  
**For the next five minutes, Claes scurried about the whole stage tending all manner of orders from Terra and Petrushka. Rico would have happily helped her, but Terra told her off on the grounds that "it's realism".

And Rolito seethed. The man was somewhat of an obsessive control freak (a trait frequently found in housewives, overprotective fathers and directors). Additionally, he hated people ruining a perfectly good script of his just because they felt like it. That it was some hothead kid who upstaged him only galled him further.

And to tell the truth, he liked Claes. Not in a disturbing way as some people would automatically think– _and yes, I mean you, Wallez, among others such as Alessandro and Gino and maybe Jose and maybe Hilshire, too_, Rolito grimly thought.

Anyway, Claes impressed him as an adult in all but body. To see such a worthy girl being run over roughshod, enduring the abuse quietly without complaint– it touched his heart in some places and inflamed it in others.

You see, the last item in his mental itinerary was that Rolito absolutely hated bullies, having been bullied a lot before he finally learned how to use a sword and cut short the torment– both literally and figuratively.

_Well, Terra, let's see how your improvising stands up to my improving._

**  
**Minutes later, a cell phone began ringing shrilly.

_**And when I feel that I can feel once again, let me stay awhile... soak it in a while… if we hold on, we can see what is wrong… wait a little while… for this head of mine…**__**2**_

Biting down a curse and ignoring the laughter of the audience, narrator Marco tucked the monstrously heavy tome he used as a prop and pulled his cell phone out of his pants pocket. "Yes?"

Whatever he heard, it did not make him happy. He knew better than to argue aloud, and he did turn off his mike to engage in a heated but hushed discussion.

Rico, however, could read lips even at her disadvantageous spot backstage. So could Jean, who taught her the skill in the first place and who was now standing next to Mireille with a clear view of Marco's red face. "It's Rolito. That Amalgam bastard is up to something no good."

Grumbling, Marco ended the call. Fifteen seconds later, his cell phone beeped.

"SMS?" Mireille wondered. "A text message?"

Marco flicked his mike on and read his text message aloud.

**  
**"**That night, while Princess Claes lay upon her rude bedding to get some rest, she felt someone approach."**

**  
**_That wasn't in the script_. Being a good girl, though, Claes sat up from her nest of shredded paper– straw and hay being in short supply in Italy, Chief Lorenzo supplied a ton of useless documents for the menacing paper shredder– and looked about the "stall".

"Freda," a woman's voice called out from off stage.

Claes stared. _**What**__ did she call me?_

So did Mireille, who further gaped in shock and almost gasped aloud.

Yuumura Kirika walked on stage. She donned the outfit she wore back during that terrible day at The Manor**3**: the white chemise that reached just halfway down her thighs, crimson twirls around her wrists and shins, and that look on her face that silently asked why she could not feel anything when she killed. Borne in her right hand with the unease of someone unused to carrying anything other than a weapon was a thin rod with a bright yellow star at its tip**4**. Precariously perched on her right shoulder was a cute white kitten. All in all Kirika looked lost and rather small and admittedly cute.

"Noir!" squealed a very familiar voice from the very back of the audience. "Here! Over here!"

An equally familiar man in a long-tailed coat grabbed the enthusiastic redhead and pulled her back down into the shadows. A ruckus sounded.

"Stay out of sight, woman!"

"Jeremy! Let me go! That child is there! I have to go to her!"

**  
**Somehow Mireille managed to keep her voice down even as she snarled into her radio. "Rolito! What is the meaning of this?"

"(Watch a while longer. You'll see.)"

**  
**Kirika approached Claes. "Freda my child," the Japanese girl announced in her quiet voice while waving her wand once. "I am your fairy godmother."

**  
**"I don't remember a fairy godmother in _Snow White_," Mireille said.

"(There isn't.)"

"Then why did you make Kirika one?"

"(Creative license.)"

The Corsican beauty was beginning to seriously wonder if Rolito was either merely erratic or what the Japanese called an otaku.

**  
**While everyone else were staring at the unexpected addition to the play, Claes was staring at the very-familiar looking kitten balancing itself on Kirika's shoulder. "Liora?"

Her pet fluffball mewled.

"I'm sorry," Kirika whispered. "I couldn't find Prince Mishkin**5**. I asked that blonde man over there–" she pointed at Jean "–If there was a cat I could borrow. He gave me this kitten."

**  
**Mireille turned her scolding on Jean. "Jean! Why did you put Liora in such a position?"

"Your friend asked politely. It would have been rude of me to refuse."

"(Wise choice, Jean,)" Rolito praised over the radio.

"Thank you, Rolito."

Mireille felt like stomping her foot pettily. _Men!_

**  
**"Why did you need a cat?" Claes asked her senior fellow assassin.

"It's for my character. Fairy godmothers are supposed to have familiars."

"Witches are the ones with familiars, not fairy godmothers."

Kirika blinked. "I didn't know that."

"Don't you know anything about fairy tales?"

"What are those?"

_And they say we cyborgs have been deprived of a normal childhood, _Claes thought grimly.

**  
"Princess Claes was surprised and awed by the appearance of her fairy godmother."**

**  
**Claes assumed as astonished an air as she could. "So why have you come here, my fairy godmother?"

"I have come to aid you in your troubles." Kirika gestured with her wand.

A Japanese teenager in a junior high school summer uniform entered the stage. He wore a cross-shaped scar on his left cheek, a stern expression on his face and a stubby grenade launcher in his arms. He marched to where Claes and Kirika stood, stood straight and saluted the both of them.

"Sir, Sergeant Sagara Sousuke, reporting for duty as ordered, sir!"

"Sergeant Sagara is my paladin," Kirika explained. "He will help you in your troubles."

"Why are you doing this for me?" Claes asked.

"You are a blessed girl, Freda my child."

"Why do you call me Freda?"

"Freda is your secret and true name. It is the name of your destiny."

"Destiny? What kind of destiny?"

"It is the destiny to lift the enchantment that the evil sorceress, your stepmother, has cast upon your kingdom. You are the only hope of your homeland."

"But I have no power," Claes protested. "Otherwise, I could have stopped all of this from happening."

"Destiny and power are separate things. You may have overwhelming power, but it may be that your ultimate destiny is to fail. Or it may be that you have no power, but your destiny is to triumph. Yours is to rule and live long and kindly and happily."

"I do not know if I should believe this," Claes murmured.

"You are a wise girl. Your mind is clear and your heart is kind. Listen to your mind and your heart. Then decide. Believe."

"Will you give me some time to think it over, fairy godmother?"

"Yes. But do not wait too long. And always be careful. The queen has a long arm. You must always be wary."

"I will. Thank you for your kindness."

"It is nothing." Kirika looked at Sagara. "Parting with you pains me deeply. Take good care of Freda. And take care of yourself."

Sagara's stern face actually softened.

**  
**"No," Mireille murmured in astonishment.

"(Yes,)" Rolito countered.

"When did **that** happen?"

"(In the future crossover fan fiction between Noir and Full Metal planned by Sheo Darren, that's when.)"** 6**

"Stop spouting mysterious gibberish!"

"(It's not gibberish. It's breaking the Fourth Wall.)"

"I don't know whether or not you're crazy."

"(It's called eccentricity. And that's only because I'm rich.)"

**  
**It wasn't fun anymore. Whenever Terra gave Claes an order, Sagara did the job. And it wasn't like Terra could intimidate Sagara. It was difficult to intimidate a man who carried a grenade launcher everywhere he went and who was used to fighting thirty-foot-tall robots– like the invisible Venom Arm Slave that a very pleased Rolito, enjoying the turn-around he'd engineered, sat inside.

**  
**"(I love it when a plan comes together.)"**7**

"You're power-tripping again."

"(I also hear your chant playing again.)"

Mireille rolled her eyes but did not deign to retort.

**  
"Meanwhile…"**

**  
**"Get him!"

Pinocchio frantically dodged and fended off the hands grabbing for him. _No! I won't be caught!_

Triela couldn't stay on his lap forever. While the blonde girl was taking a brief restroom break to freshen up, Pino recovered enough of his wits to make a break for it.

Of course, escape involved running a gauntlet of cyborgs.

But Pino was driven by something his opponents lacked. Not quite self-preservation. It was shame. It was mortification. It was the thought of having that horribly handsome harridan within a hundred feet of him– no, more so, her feminine figure hunched over him, the softness of her bottom plunked upon his laps, her sneering, bewitchingly beautiful face almost in his, rosy lips daring to be crushed so passionately, making him think wrong thing, feel all so wrong–

_Not again. Never again. Never! I won't fall for you! You'll never take me alive!_

And then Pino tripped and fell flat on his face, stunned.

A silvery human-shaped outline coalesced over him. The now-visible Giuseppe grinned at the prostrate Pinocchio. His kukri rested over his right shoulder.

"Were we going anywhere?"

**  
**"Why, Pinocchio. I missed you **so** much. You weren't going to leave me, now, were you?" Triela smiled foxily. "Well, just to preclude that…"

She held up a bale of rope. Her smile was sweetly wicked.

Pino began to earnestly pray at this point.

**  
"The evil Queen was enjoying herself."**

**  
**Back in her comfy seat (a.k.a. Pino's lap, the boy now tied to the throne), Triela snapped her fingers. Meir rushed on stage. This time, instead of the huge wooden frame from earlier, he carried a smaller frame about the side of his head with a handle.

**  
**"(I have to get one of the actors or actresses to trip Meir in one of these scenes. Then I can insert a joke about getting seven years bad luck.)" **8**

"Rolito! That's cruel!"

"(Yes. At times I can be crueler than Jean was in the first two volumes of the manga.)"

"…You really are an otaku, aren't you?"

"(…I resent that.)"

**  
**"Mirror, Mirror, mounted on a handle, who's the fairest within this Kingdom?"

"Why, it isss you, Your Hissinesss!"

"Excellent!"

**  
"But the evil Queen was vain beyond belief."**

**  
**"But tell me, Mirror, who is the fairest of them all?"

"Princesss Claesss."

"Of course–" Triela froze. "What? Wait a minute! What did you say?"

"I said, Princesss Claesss."

"Claes is dead!"

"No, Your Cruelnesss. Ssshe'sss very much alive and well."

"Show me!"

"Okay…"

A video projector threw a picture of Claes surrounded by Spirites across the wall. Sagara hovered over her left shoulder like a second shadow.

**  
**"And how do you justify **that**?"

"(Magic is merely badly-understood science and technology that appears ahead of its time.)"

The craziest thing was that it made sense. Mireille shook her head.

**  
**"Never send a soft-hearted Hunter to do an evil stepmother's job," Triela muttered. "Okay, Claes. Let's dance."

**  
"Looks like Triela will not stop until Claes is dead for real. But just what evils does our blond temptress have in store? Not just for Claes, but also for the audience and especially **_**Pino**_**?**

"**Well, have you ever heard of sadomasochistic pleasures? Yes, Mr. Wallez, you well know what we're up to in the next chapter of…"**

**  
****Snow Claes And The Seven Cyborg Sprites**

**  
**A Gunslinger Girl Christmas Presentation

**  
Disclaimer**

Neither Rolito nor Sheo owns Gunslinger Girl, Noir or Full Metal Panic. OCs used here with permission from their respective creators. This is a fan fiction and a parody. Please do not sue.

**  
****"And now for the expected "Learned Commentaries By Victor 'Hilshire' Hartman"- as promised after making 'Etta run around with bananas on her fingers in Oddity's fic."**

**  
**"I hate you, Rolito."

**  
Today's List:**

1. The word "press" can mean a) a hot iron used to dry clothes and b) a general term for journalists or reporters.

2. Anyone who's watched the anime of "Gunslinger Girl" knows what this song is. :)

3. See the last few episodes of the anime Noir for Kirika's costume.

4. Person with many aliases, Lone Wolf NEO, you know where this came from.

5. Prince Mishkin is a kitten that Kirika kept as a pet from an episode of Noir.

6. This is a direct quote from the Author. "Honest! I'm really making it! I've already begun on the first chapter!"

7. A quote from the 80s television show A-Team. Damn, but Mr. T sure can throw far...

8. The usual "break a mirror and you get seven years bad luck". Incidentally, if you fix a mirror, is the reverse true?

**  
**"This can't get any worse," Hilshire mournfully decided.

**  
**"Mister Superior? This is Handsome Pearl. We've found Crazy Horse."

"(Good. Keep an eye on him. The rest of the Teams are en route…)"

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Leon?"

"Stay put, Matilda. We'll get our shot at this bastard soon enough."

"Yes, Mr. Leon."

Click, went a big Magnum revolver.


	5. Triela Strikes Back

**Warning**

This fic will feature canon characters acting out of character and imply sexually suggestive overtures between minors. Also beware of the Author childishly indulging himself in power-tripping.

**  
**Now, on with the play!

**Part Four**

**Interlude**

**  
**Earlier, during the interlude:

"(Okay, everyone,)" Rolito announced via the speakers of his Venom. "(Listen up, and listen up well. Since this play began, everyone's been winging things. That's both good and bad. Good, since the audience loves the sheer genius of our extemporaneousness. Bad, in that it's absolute chaos. The others can't predict what you're going to do in the next minute.

"(So, from now on, everyone is going to do things just one way: **my** way. Any dissent?)"

Terra opened her mouth to say something.

The shiny razor edge of a black anodized kukri blade stopped millimeters from her throat even as an arrow tipped by a heavy titanium head coated with the extremely toxic secretion of the South American poison arrow frog hovered a half a foot from her left temple. In addition, a bright red dot appeared on her forehead, followed by the distinct sound of a six-barrel 7.62mm Minigun spinning up to 6,000 revolutions per minute.

"(Hmm?)" The curiosity in Rolito's tone was patently fake and seriously deadly. "(What was that, Terra-chan?)"

Grumbling, Terra did keep her mouth shut.

"(By the way: head's up.)"

"Huh?"

A four-legged, tail-toting ball of white fluff landed on Terra's face and started biting, clawing and hissing for all it was worth.

"**AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"**

**  
**"The Geneva Conventions ought to ban Liora," the amused Rolito noted as Terra ran around backstage with Liora clinging to her face.

**  
"Now that the evil Queen knew Princess Claes was still alive, she set into motion plans to end her rival's life."**

**  
****Attempt 1: The Poisoned Comb**

Triela was dressed up as a classy saleslady (because everyone knew that no one in her right state of mind would buy anything from a mysterious old hag). Her hair was tied into a professional bun. She toted a large and expensive suitcase.

Conveniently, Claes was sweeping the yard. She had nothing better to do. Sousuke had stifled Terra's more serious chores for her. Sweeping was admittedly calming– though what possessed Rolito to issue her a Japanese-style broom with a bamboo handle mystified her.

"Hi!" Triela brightly greeted. "I'm Ratiel Hartman!"

**  
**Waiting for the expected end-of-chapter **"Learned Commentaries By Victor 'Hilshire' Hartman"** foisted on him against his will, Hilshire buried his face in his palms and groaned.

**  
**"I work for Amalgam Enterprises, Ma'am," Triela happily continued. "We provide you with anything you might need: nuclear warheads, ultra-advanced Arm Slave robots, hot Chinese assassin twins and combs."

Claes blinked. "Combs? I could use a comb." Since her otherwise luxurious hair was a bit messy due to lack of care.

"Excellent! May I present you a sample of our selection?" Triela popped her suitcase open. Inside were a variety of combs.

Claes briefly scanned the suitcase's contents. "I'll take this one." She pointed at a simple black comb with a handle.

"Excellent taste, Ma'am!" To the crowd: "I poisoned all of them, anyway."

Then Petrushka walked over. "What are you doing there?" She noticed the suitcase full of combs and beamed. "Ooh! Combs! I want this one!"

And before anyone could protest, Petrushka snatched the fanciest-looking comb made of 24 carat gold and encrusted with fine gemstones, and stuck it on her head.

A long moment of silence passed. Petra's eyes rolled up to show their whites. She toppled backwards and began twitching violently.

Claes and Triela stared. "Ah," Triela began, "Don't worry, we sold her insurance. Her insurance covers poisonings by combs. In fact, I have antidotes for sale right here…"

**  
****Score**

Claes: 1

Triela: 0

Petra: -1

**  
****Attempt 2: The Poisoned Spinning Wheel**

**  
**"I won't bother to point out that this is from Sleeping Beauty and not Snow White," Mireille said over the radio.

"(Glad to know we understand each other, Mireille.)"

**  
**"Hi, Ma'am Claes!" Triela beamed. "It's me!"

"Selling poisoned combs again?" Claes dryly asked.

"Oh, no, Ma'am. I apologize for that. That batch of combs had been marked for a rival company's chief executive's wife's second daughter's mistress. I assure you that the supply clerk who bungled the details has been dealt with most severely. Is Ma'am Petrushka all right?"

"Yes. The antidote worked out fine."

"Oh, good, good! Anyway, Ma'am Claes, may I interest you in a spinning wheel?"

"A spinning wheel? I don't see any spinning wheel?"

"It's right here!" Triela gestured grandly- to an empty spot on the floor.

Another long moment of silence passed. There was still no spinning wheel in sight.

Triela turned around to face Stage Right. **"ALPHA!!"**

"Sorry!" The chastised boy ran on stage pushing a wheeled spinning wheel. "I forgot!"

"Just because you came first before all of us in Boomer's storyline…" Shaking her head, Triela took Claes by the shoulders and pushed her towards the spinning wheel. "Try it, Ma'am!"

"But I don't know how to weave–"

Petrushka arrived. She regarded the spinning wheel with surprise. "A spinning wheel?"

Triela blanched because she suspected what was coming up. "You know how to use it?"

"Of course! Let the expert show you how it's done!"

And so Petra, in setting up the equipment, nicked her finger on the poisoned needle and fainted.

"I think your bungling supply clerk is still somewhere in the supply basement mucking up your inventory," Claes sourly observed.

"I'll get the antidote, Ma'am…"

**  
****Score**

Claes: 2

Triela: 0

Petra: -2

**  
**"That's cruel!" Alessandro complained. "Why does Petra always have to take the bullet for Claes?"

"(But it's funny!)" Rolito pointed out.

"Rolito," Mireille scolded.

"(What? WHAT?)"

**  
"The evil Queen realized that someone with supernatural power was foiling her. She quickly discovered Sagara's presence."**

**  
**"Ah hah!" A gas-mask-wearing Triela popped out of the Sprites' laundry pile waving her damning evidence in one heavily-gloved hand. "Boxer shorts! There's a man in the house!"

**  
**Off stage, Sousuke blinked. "Those aren't mine."

**  
**Hilshire's face could have been mistaken for a sunrise.

**  
"The evil Queen summoned evil minions from another anime to deal with Princess Claes' protector."**

**  
**"Kasshim!"

Sousuke spun around in horror and shock. Arrayed before him were his enemies: Gates, Yu Fang, Yu Lang and, of course, Gauron himself.

"Hello, Kasshim," Gauron drawled. "It's been a while…"

"All of you are dead," Sousuke swore.

"This is a fan fiction, Kasshim! Anything can happen here!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Apparently," Gates told his equally psychotic colleague, "Only Rolito and perhaps Triela know that aside from us."

"Fan fiction?" Yu Fang asked a similarly confused Yu Lang. "What's that?"

**  
"With Sousuke distracted, the evil Queen was now free to move against Princess Claes."**

**  
**Cradled in the wickedly grinning Triela's hands was–

**  
**Hilshire choked.

**  
**–a very large specimen of Hilshire Farms Sausage.

"Hi!" Triela told Claes with the most innocent and carefree air ever known to history. "I'm really sorry for poisoning your friend twice in a row. So, as a token of apology, please accept this free sample of Hilshire's sausage…"

**  
**Hilshire clutched at his heart. Marco developed a hacking cough that wouldn't go away. Jean couldn't immediately decide whether to disapprove or to laugh. (He chose to smile as compromise.) Jose, Priscilla and Mireille blushed. And in his Venom's cockpit, Rolito managed to shut his radio down before guffawing like a lunatic.

"I don't get it," the mystified Henrietta told the red-faced Giuseppe (the cyborg) backstage. The other girls were similarly querying the nearest boy or man. Save Carol, who was blushing very prettily due certain secret knowledge she possessed…

Nearby, Pinocchio (still tied to the throne) was glad no one was currently paying attention to him.

**  
**Claes could barely keep in character due her friend's ingenious irreverence. "Of course." She took the proffered sausage with exaggerated care.

"Careful." Triela was clearly enjoying herself. "It's rather tender."

**  
**"IT IS **NOT**!" yelled Hilshire.

**  
**"Rolito," Mireille began.

"(It wasn't in the script. It's Triela. I know, I told everyone to follow the script. But I have to admit that girl is a natural actress and a genius. No wonder she's popular with the fans.)"

… I don't even know why I bother arguing with you…"

"(You can just say 'You. Are. Crazy.'.)"

"That, too."

"(Why, thank you, Mireille. I think you're hot, too.)"

**  
**"Why don't you try it?" Triela suggested. "A little bite won't hurt."

"You first," Claes offered with a small, knowing smirk.

"I prefer my sausages smaller," was the witty retort.

**  
**Hilshire was pleading with God to smite him here and now instead of subjecting him to further misery at the hands of his ward.

**  
**"Looks like you have a chance, after all, Pino-kun," Giuseppe told Pinocchio. He, Meir, Luke and Alpha then began sniggering meanly.

The girls who heard (minus Carol, now turning even redder) exchanged curious looks and asked each other what the boys found so funny.

Pino glowered. "I hate all you cyborgs…"

**  
"And so Princess Claes took the fateful bite out of Hilshire's poisoned sausage…"**

**  
**"MARCO!"

**  
"… Sorry, Hilshire. Anyway…"**

**  
**Claes took a tiny nibble off the sausage. She froze. Dropped the sausage. Staggered backwards. On the way she accidentally knocked the same poisoned comb from earlier onto her head and clumsily pricked her finger on the poisoned needle of the sewing machine. Claes then fell on her face and lay still.

**  
**"Woah," Rolito murmured in awe. "Sheo Darren Effect in motion."

**  
"The Sprites found Princess Claes lying dead in the house…"**

**  
**"We should just dig a deep hole somewhere and dump her corpse there," Terra grumped. "No one will find out."

"**NO!"** Henrietta, Angelica, Rico and Carol wailed.

Beatrice held up a placard saying "Negative."

"Oh, no, no, no," Terra countered. "Dead Claes is a complication. Complication is trouble. Trouble must be avoided. Right, Petruska?"

Petra bit her lip. "Claes saved my life twice…"

Terra groaned.

**  
"And so the Sprites placed Princess Claes' body in a glass coffin and placed her within a peaceful copse for her wild animal friends to visit."**

**  
**"The glass coffin's sides are solid," Gino noted at the last moment.

"We can't have that!" Amadeo said. "Claes will choke to death!"

"Someone just put holes in it already," Jean ordered.

Terra, frustrated and ticked off for five chapters straight, pulled out her pistol, paused long enough to screw a silencer on and put a whole magazine's worth of 9mm bullets through the transparent plastic of the "glass" coffin.

Claes shrugged. "Thanks."

**  
"Meanwhile, just entering the forest…"**

**  
**Luke came on stage riding a golden chariot pulled by the aptly-costumed Amadeo. The Israeli wore glittering white armor lifted out of a Bible story, a flowing red cape and a silvery round shield emblazoned with Hebrew text. A bejeweled sword with a leaf-shaped blade rode in a scabbard on his left hip. There were also javelins and a sling with lead bullets.

"I am Prince Luke of the Kingdom of the Land Flowing With Milk And Honey," he declared, "And I have come to claim the hand of the Princess of this land in marriage.

**  
"The audience might be wondering why Luke is dressed up more like a biblical Israeli warrior instead of the traditional Western 'knight in shining armor' outfit. The reason for that will be revealed in the next chapter of…" **

**  
****Snow Claes And The Seven Cyborg Sprites**

**  
**A Gunslinger Girl Christmas Presentation

**  
Disclaimer**

Neither Rolito nor Sheo owns Gunslinger Girl, Noir or Full Metal Panic. OCs used here with permission from their respective creators. This is a fan fiction and a parody. Please do not sue.

**  
**"I seem to have forgotten something," Rolito mused.

**  
**Sousuke was hard-pressed to hold off his four enemies. "Urz Seven to Base! I need reinforcements!"

"Sousuke!" Kirika came in Beretta blazing. Right on her heels was the knife-toting Chloe. Bringing up the rear was Jeremy Colt and a Pancor Jackhammer.

**  
**"No, not that. What was it?" Rolito racked his brains. "Oh. The **"Learned Commentaries By Victor 'Hilshire' Hartman"** segment. But, since Hilshire seems preoccupied…"

**  
**Hilshire was going through a fifth shot of brandy at the nearby Rolito's Pasta. "I'm a bad handler..."

Hobbes patted his back sympathetically.

**  
**"… we will turn to another great Manly Man to provide us with commentary…"

**  
**"About the only thing of curious note here," Sean Connery tells the audience in his unique accent, "Is Rolito's comment about the **Sheo Darren Effect**. Basically, the Sheo Darren Effect means that the unexpected happens when least expected. This is most prevalent in Sheo's Guilty Gear fan fiction series The Wedding Night,The Wedding Night 2and The World Within And Without. The Sheo Darren Effect also makes appearances in Sheo's more humorous stories, including and not limited to his Gunslinger Girl one-shot stories."

**  
**"And that about wraps it up," Rolito finished. To himself: "Now, if Sheo can keep this productivity going long enough to finish this fic…"

**  
**"Leon? We're here."

"About time, Vincent. You just missed the great parts."

"Weren't they going to release a DVD version of this, anyway?"

"Nothing beats live. Everyone here?"

"All the Teams are here. So, how do we get in?"

"Entrance is there. Snacks that way. Bathrooms over there. I got courtesy tickets for everyone."

"Thanks, Leon."

"No problem."

**  
**Two young lads arrive at the entrance after the gaggle of girls and adults.

"I hear Triela's in this play," Frederick thought. "It would be a shame if I didn't watch it."

_Triela,_ Marc thought with rather excessive fondness.


	6. Kiss Miss Miss Kiss

**Warning**

This fic will feature canon characters acting out of character and imply sexually suggestive overtures between minors. Also beware of the Author childishly indulging in power-tripping.

Now, on with the play!

**Part Five**

**Kiss Miss/Mis-Kiss **

**  
**"For the last time, Rolito," Mireille resolutely declared, "I am **not** doing it."

"(But the story won't progress otherwise...)"

"Why not get Kirika?"

"(She's busy.)"

**  
**Outside the theater, Kirika and Chloe teamed up against Yu Fang and Yu Lang while Sagara and Colt battled Gauron and Gates in an eight-fighter tornado tag anything-goes fight-to-the-finish.

**  
**"Why did you call those maniacs here, anyway?"

"(I needed a distraction for Sagara. So, will you do it?)"

"No."

"(M. Night Shymalan never shied from doing cameos in his films.)"

"I'm not Shymalan."

"(Killjoy.)"

"Very."

"(Jean.)"

The blond man looked at where he assumed the invisible Venom was.

"(No, Jean, I wasn't talking about you, I was just using your name in vain by comparing Mireille to you.)"

"I'm still not doing it, Rolito," Mireille stated, "And that's final."

_"(If you don't do it...)"_

"What?"

_"(...I'll tell Jean all about your original gender leanings.)"_

"...You're a bastard, Rolito, you know that?"

_"(Nah, my Mom and my Dad were married when they made me.)__"_

**  
"It all started when King Ehud, Divine Ruler of the Land Flowing With Milk And Honey (a country which we will now call Israel for purpose of brevity), decided that his only son and heir Prince Luke was of the right age to marry."**

**  
**"Luke, I want grandkids."

"Huh?"

"Humor me, son. I'm going through my midlife crisis."

"I thought you told me you were done with that?"

"Relapse."

**  
**"Sad," Rolito agreed, then remembered he didn't have anyone to talk to for now.

**  
"So King Ehud sent Prince Luke to The Land Far, Far Away."**

**  
**"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"Are we there yet?"

"Stop plagiarizing Shrek!"

**  
"Now, if we had enough money and this was a film, we'd show you these scenes…"**

**  
**"My name is Gladiator."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Luke."

**  
**"You know what lies there? Immortality. It's yours. Take it!"

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm going **that** way."

**  
**"Artorius!!"

"Over there, I think."

**  
**"Death! Death! Death!"

"Ride!"

**  
**"Spartans! Ready your breakfast and eat hearty, for tonight we dine in Hell!"

"…oh, boy… I'm in for one wild night…"

**  
**"What… is the speed of a flying swallow?"

STAB

**  
"But, since we only have a limited budget and a stage play, we resort to a Random Battle."**

**  
**Luke took one step off his chariot.

A sound rather like that of a mirror breaking hit the audience. A group of black-suited figures rushed onstage. They faced Luke. Final Fantasy battle music began playing.

"Take him down," King ordered his team.

"My life for Aiur," acknowledged Queen.

"Is it a European or an African swallow?" Joker quipped.

Ace nodded.

**  
**Jean choked at the appearance of Padania Republic Faction assassins.

**  
**"I knew hiring these guys was going to help," Rolito told himself.

**  
**Luke was ready. "Oh, yeah? Take this!" He began using every (rubber) weapon at hand.

"Shit," King grumbled as a spear hit him. He lowered himself to the floor and lay still. "I'm really too old for this stage play stuff…"

Queen followed shortly after taking a bullet from a slingshot. "It is a good day to die…"

"… Need… Holy… Hand… Grenade…" Joker managed before collapsing from an arrow.

That left Ace. She engaged Luke in a pretty well-choreographed swordfight across the stage before letting herself get stabbed. Her last act was to grab the front of Luke's costume and partly haul herself up almost to his face.

"Give me back my body…"

THUD

Luke blinked. "Huh?"

**  
**"I seem to remember that line from the movie version of a Crichton novel," Rolito noted. "Or maybe one of Sheo's original stories. Still, it's dramatic and rather cute with Ace doing it…"

**  
**Claes' eyeglasses shone dangerously.

**  
**FF victory music played.

Victory! You gained 12750 XP. Level up! You received 9500 Gold and a Fire Ring +2. Keep/Discard?

**  
"Strengthened by his battles, Prince Luke journeyed onwards. And, no, I don't know why modern-day PRF cyborg assassins carry 9500 Gold and a Fire Ring +2."**

**  
**"It's so nice not to have that woman harping on me during every single clever insinuation I make," Rolito sighed with pleasure.

**  
"As Prince Luke coursed through the forest, he came upon a mystic figure…"**

**  
**Mireille Bouquet, Corsica's Daughter, One of Three Trees of Noir, Yuumura Kirika's Former Lover, Jean Croce's First Girlfriend In GSG Fanon, and Director of Snow Claes And The Seven Cyborg Sprites entered the stage in her typical red blouse-black miniskirt outfit. Her only concession to her impromptu role was to wield the same wand that Kirika earlier used. She also bore a very displeased expression.

**  
**"My greatest triumph yet," Rolito decided with a huge self-congratulatory grin.

**  
**"Miss Mireille?" the (honestly) startled Luke asked. "What are you doing there?"

"I'm subbing for Kirika. Listen carefully, Luke. There is a Princess in this forest. Her name is Claes. She is the one you are looking for. She can be found in a glen about a mile northeast of here. Go to her. And hurry."

"Yes, Miss Mireille."

"Don't call me that."

**  
**Backstage, Henrietta giggled.

**  
"Guided by the helpful, if annoyed, fairy, Prince Luke arrived at the glen where Princess Claes lay in dead repose."**

**  
**"What is happening here?" Luke asked.

"Don't you have eyes?" Terra grumbled. "It's a funeral."

"Who died?"

"Claes."

Luke put on a shocked expression. "No! I came too late!"

The hitherto-wailing Sprites whirled on him.

"He's come for Claes!"

"The Evil Stepmother must have sent him!"

"But isn't Claes dead already?"

"He must be a necrophiliac, then!"

"Ewww!"

"We can't let him get his filthy hands on Claes!"

"Get him!"

The Sprites charged. It was like facing an onrushing flood of cute, pretty and grumpy. Luke was instantly swamped by a quarter-ton of cyborg.

"Hey! Ah! Ow! Help!"

"What should we do with him?" Rico asked.

Petrushka smirked naughtily. "TICKLE HIM TO DEATH!!"

The Sprites cheered. Fingers wiggled in anticipation. Luke gulped.

"Wait!" A puffing Giuseppe arrived. "Let him go!"

"Who the hell are you?" Terra demanded as she was about to lay the smackdown on the pinned Luke.

"I'm the Royal Hunter. I saved Princess Claes' life by disobeying and deceiving the Queen. But I was found out and only narrowly escaped. I came here as soon as I heard about the Princess getting poisoned." Giuseppe paused dramatically. "Listen! Princess Claes is not dead. She's just suspended in a powerful magic coma! It's some technicality about magics clashing, or so I heard. To break the curse, she must be given a kiss!"

"Well, then, Hunter," Petrushka slyly suggested, "By all means, pucker up."

"Huh?"

"Give the Princess her wake-up kiss." Petra gestured extravagantly to the coffin's occupant.

The 'dead' Claes twitched.

Giuseppe went red all over. He stepped back, held his hands up and shook his head violently. "No! I don't want to kiss Claes! I want Henrietta-"

He caught himself. Too late. Henrietta's face rivaled the Big Bang in brightness. Backstage, Elena could be heard yelling "BIG BROTHER!!" while Jose pulled out his SiG. The rest of the Sprites grinned at their Amalgam counterpart.

Luke snickered. "Payback…"

**  
**Rolito was too busy laughing his head off to make any smart-ass comments.

**  
"So, Prince Luke set about to wake Princess Claes through a most fulsomely passionate asymmetrical docking of their mucus-covered orifices…"**

**  
**"ROLITO!!"

"(Hey, Mireille. Welcome back. I missed you.)"

**  
**Luke lifted the glass cover of the coffin and set it aside. He bent down so that his face hovered over Claes'. He was blushing. So was the "dead" girl. They were so embarrassed that they stayed in that impasse for a full minute.

"(Giuseppe?)" Rolito radioed.

"Yes, Sensei?"

"(Push Luke.)"

"Eh?"

"(The idiot's too shy to do it on his own. He needs to be prodded.)"

"But…"

"(Do it.)"

Consigning his fate to God, Giuseppe gave Luke a helpful prod.

Unfortunately, around this time, Terra also got it into her head to 'help'. And where Giuseppe did a gentle push, Terra shoved. Hard.

Luke's face ended up buried in Claes' bosom.

Everyone gaped.

"Oops," Giuseppe mumbled.

The sound of a palm smacking into a face was clearly audible. Make it two palms. One was Rolito burying his face in his right hand, and the other was Claes slapping Luke out of reflex.

"LUKE!"

"I'm sorry! It's Giuseppe's fault! He pushed me!"

Scandinavian girl and Israeli boy glared at the thoroughly embarrassed Italian lad.

"It was an accident! Terra pushed too hard!"

"Oh, can it, you Amalgam terrorist! Besides, I'm sure Claes **liked** it!"

It took everyone onstage to restrain Claes.

"Oh, I get it. Luke likes **bigger** chests. Hey, Tri-E-La!"

Raucous laughter came from backstage, proving Triela could appreciate a joke aimed at her– so long as Claes was the bigger butt of it.

_You are not going to get any sleep soon, Triela,_ Claes coldly promised her roommate.

**  
"After Princess Claes' awakening, she, Prince Luke, the Hunter and the Sprites held a council of war."**

**  
**"Offense is the best defense," Luke was saying. "We have to take the fight to the enemy."

"Overthrow the Queen?" Giuseppe asked with a hint of concern.

"Restoring the rightful ruler is more like it," Claes corrected. "My Stepmother remains in power only because she holds my father–" thinking of Pinocchio in that way made her smile "–under her thrall. That incapacity for self-decision disqualifies him for the crown. My Stepmother is disqualified because according to my land's laws, royal authority automatically descends to direct bloodline heirs: me."

"Were you a lawyer before you were brainwashed and conditioned?" Terra grumped.

"Objection," Luke slyly interjected. "We're supposed to be in character…"

"Don't you go Phoenix Wright on me," Terra growled.

"We may have the legal right," Petrushka argued, "But do we have the combat capability to back it up? You know the old saying about 'Might making things right'…"

"We can," Giuseppe answered. "The Kingdom does not have a real army per se. The Queen has some minions who can fight, but I believe we can take them."

"Then we fight," Claes decided.

"About time." Terra grinned. "Sprites! Prepare for glory!"

The Sprites cheered.

**  
"Meanwhile, at Castlevania…"**

**  
**Sexily seated upon Pinocchio's lap while watching the scene on her magic Meir-ror, Triela allowed a sultry purr to escape her luscious lips. "Come into my lair, said the spider to the fly… for tonight, you will dine in Hell…"

"So," Clarice asked, "We can kill all of them?"

"Figuratively speaking," Svetlana answered. "This is, after all, a play."

Other fanon cyborg OCs roared like Spartans from 300.

Pino shivered. _More cyborgs… Is there no end to this Hell?_

**  
"An epic battle of fan-made characters awaits you in the next installment of…" **

**Snow Claes And The Seven Cyborg Sprites**

**  
**A Gunslinger Girl Christmas Presentation

**  
Disclaimer**

Neither Rolito nor Sheo owns Gunslinger Girl, Noir or Full Metal Panic. OCs used here with permission from their respective creators. This is a fan fiction and a parody. Please do not sue.

**  
**"What?" Frederick was angry. "I was only briefly featured in the end?"

Marc muttered something Frenchly vile beneath his breath. "What a letdown… I hope the next chapter is more fun…"

"Shut up there," Leon growled from behind, "We're trying to watch a play here…"

"Mr. Leon?" Matilda was rather confused. "I thought we were going after Crazy Horse?"

"After the play."

**  
**"Somehow," Colt muttered aloud as he popped a few aspirins while shooting at that blond monkey freak Gates, "I have the feeling I'm a pretty popular person right now…"

**  
**"That man is going **too far**," Mireille fumed to her boyfriend.

Jean only shrugged "It's a good Brechtian play."

"**Jean!"**

**  
**"Sir Darren? Mr. Hilshire is thoroughly soused."

"(Thanks for the reminder, Hobbes. I'll send someone over to drag his sorry German ass here.)"

"You're welcome." Hobbes shook his head at the drunk Hishire.

"…Leoni… hic… Ratiel… hic… I'm sorry… hic…"

**  
**"BIG BROTHER!! YOU HAVE A LOT OF EXPLAINING TO DO!!"

"Ah, Elena, could you not be so loud? It's embarrassing…"

**  
**"Henrietta…"

"It's not what you think, Jose!"

**  
**"Luke? You okay?"

"I'm a bad boyfriend… a bad boyfriend…"

**  
**"Terra…"

"Ohohohohohohoho…"

"But you **have** to admit, Claes, that it was funny."

"You too, Triela?"

"Why, haven't you read The Oddity's latest fic yet? Or Sheo's Admissions story?"

"…Pervert."


	7. The Great Big Final Battle

**Warning**

This fic will feature canon characters acting out of character and imply sexually suggestive overtures between minors. Also beware of the Author childishly indulging in power-tripping.

Now, on with the play!

**  
****Part Six**

**The Great Big Final Battle**

**  
"Prince Luke, Princess Claes, Hunter Giuseppe and the Sprites charged the evil Queen's castle…"**

**  
**Luke kicked down the cardboard cutout gate. "Triela!" he yelled aloud.

"I'm sorry," Clarice, who stood in his way, announced in the deadpan manner of Agent Smith. "This is a dead end."

From Stage Left emerged a small army of girls. Every other original character mechanical body that had graced a Gunslinger Girl fan fic appeared.

"For Triela!" they yelled.

"For Claes!" the Sprites yelled back in challenge.

"For me!" Terra loudly appended.

A royal rumble ensued. Cyborg girls went at it like blood-crazed prizefighters, swinging fists and makeshift weapons at each other.

**  
**"They're not really fighting, are they?" an alarmed Mireille asked Jean as mechanical bodies went down hard or were catapulted into the air like rag dolls. "I mean, they're just acting, right?"

"(Kind of reminds me of that old Zoids commercial,)" Rolito mused. "(Turn the Zoids against each other! It's our only hope! Zoid against Zoid…)"

"Rolito," Mireille scolded over the radio.

"(What? So I'm **that** old already…)"

"That wasn't what I meant!"

"(Oh, I know what you meant. Yet another point against using little girls as weapons…)"

"…"

**  
**Terra swung her rubber sledgehammer at Clarice. But Clarice grabbed the nearest girl– who happened to be Angelica– and used her as a human shield.

Despite that, Terra kept swinging.

"Eeek! Terra! Stop attacking! It's me!" the hapless Angie wailed. "I'm on your side!"

"Ask me if I care!"

WHAPWHAPWHAP

And then both Terra and Clarice found themselves floating a few inches off the Stage floor, the backs of their collars gripped by mighty hands that seemed made of steel.

"What the–"

"LEAVE ANGELICA ALONE!!"

Marco threw Terra and Clarice towards the back of the stage. The two cyborgs smashed through the wood paneling and into the escaping form of Clarice's handler, knocking the irresponsible man out before he could abandon Clarice for the heinous act.

Everyone froze.

"Marco can do **that**?" Mireille and Jean simultaneously exclaimed.

"(Don't make him angry,)" Rolito advised from above. "(You don't want to make him angry…)"

"Marco…" Angelica's eyes shone in admiration. She hugged her handler around his neck and snuggled upon his broad chest. "You're my hero!"

Marco grinned like some young buck that had just scored big time.

"(Okay,)" the bemused Rolito commented over the radio, "(That is slightly disturbing…)"

In the audience, Patricia stood up and cheered for her boyfriend.

"(And **that** is even more disturbing…)"

**  
**Henrietta found herself facing a furious dagger-wielding Elena.

"You!" The slightly smaller girl shook her weapon at her Section Two rival. "You took my big brother away from me! I won't forgive you!"

**  
**"(So that's where that knife of mine went,)" Rolito noted to himself almost absently.

"That's a real knife?" Mireille gasped in alarm.

"(Don't worry. It's not one of my poisoned ones.)"

"Rolito! That's not what I meant!"

**  
**Giuseppe got in between the two girls. "Elena! That's dangerous! Give me that!"

"No! If I can't have you–" Elena aimed the needle point at her throat. "Oh, happy dagger!"

"Elena!"

"Don't!"

Both Giuseppe and Henrietta leapt. Too late.

BOINK

'Seppe and 'Etta stared at the blade bent double away from Elena's skin.

"A rubber knife?"

Elena stuck her tongue out at them. "What, you really think I would kill myself? Papa will never forgive me."

"ELENA!!"

**  
**"Elena needs to work on her humor," Rolito muttered. He suddenly realized something. "Wait. If that's not my knife, where is it?" Then: _"(_CHLOE!!)"

**  
**Outside, Chloe's shrugged shoulders said she didn't take the blade because it struck her as ugly.

**  
**"(Ugly? And who took my knife?)"

**  
**Jeremy Colt laughed like a psychotic ninny as he stuck the knife he stole off Rouge into Gates' shoulder. Gates convulsed and then dropped dead.

**  
**"(Oh. It **was** one of my poisoned knives.)"

**  
**Rico blinked upon seeing her opponent. "Meir!"

Meir frantically gestured for his friend to correct herself.

"I mean, Magic Meir-ror!"

"No," Panzer loudly offered, "It's Myrrh! Or Steyr! Or something!"

The former Emilio's head drooped. "I have lost all my dignity…"

Rico patted him on the back.

**  
**"'Etta!" a small and familiar voice called out.

"Danni?"

Danielle landed near her sister. "I'm going to help you!" she declared.

"Me, too!" May agreed.

Yuki, her face partly obscured by the copy of Lolita that she had borrowed from Claes, nodded in agreement.

On their heels came the rest of the Handsome Men cyborgs. Their arrival proved to be the turning point of the battle. Triela's supporters were swamped by superior numbers of fresh cyborgs who had no qualms about pistol-whaling their way into the melee.

"Did we go here for this?" Vincent asked Leon.

"Obviously **not**…"

"Enough of this!" Luke's shout easily carried over the diminishing ruckus of the Sprites-Handsome Men alliance suppressing their opponents. "Evil Stepmother Triela! Come out and fight for yourself!"

Evil laughter drifted across the stage. Triela emerged dragging a trussed-up Pinocchio behind her.

"Go, Triela!" Marc yelled from his place in the audience.

THWACK

Marc's eyes rolled up to show their whites. He bonelessly slipped to the floor with a thud.

Frederick used Marc's unconscious body as a footstool and began yelling cheers in German.

"Prepare yourself, evil Queen!" Luke challenged.

Triela sneered. "Oh, but I **will**." She took hold of her dress' front and then threw it into the air, where it gently fluttered down until it fell on Hilshire's face.

"It still **smells** like Triela," her dazed handler mumbled.

Priscilla, Ferro and Elenora carefully stepped away from Hilshire.

Everyone gasped. The men and boys loudest of all, who stared so hard their huge eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, at the world-shaking sight they beheld.

Revealed was a tight-fitting backless leotard made of black leather, fishnet stockings and killer high heel boots. The costume did wonders for the few parts of Triela's body that the dress had failed to address. Like her now-unveiled sleek thighs, spankable buttocks, long sexy legs and a bust that was surprisingly bigger than what everyone expected from a thirteen-year-old girl.

Luke gulped audibly.

In the audience, Marc resurrected from half-death to drool for about half a second before an even more aroused Frederick reflexively nailed him again with his gun– that is, he used his Luger.

Behind Triela, Pinocchio's face exploded into a fountain of red as the biggest nosebleed in the world hit home. Oh, and his other head throbbed, too.

Hilshire sobbed outright into his hands. "I'M SORRY, RATIEL!! LEONI'S TURNED INTO THE WORST THING POSSIBLE FOR A GIRL HER AGE: A **DOMINATRIX**!! AND **I** LET THIS HAPPEN TO HER!! WORST OF ALL, SHE'S ACTUALLY **TURNING** **ME** **ON**!! I'M A **TERRIBLE** FATHER!!"

Bianchi, Gino, Amadeo and the other men carefully stepped away from him as well.

"Now, Luke," Triela purred, "**You** prepare."

And her whip flicked out with a smart crack that nearly took off Luke's nose, it was so accurately placed and strongly launched.

"Hey!" Luke yelped.

"Careful there," the wincing Giuseppe advised a bit too late.

"Triela!" Claes hissed. "If Luke comes back to me less handsome than he is now…"

Triela laughed like a madwoman as her whip sadistically licked at Luke again and again. "What's the matter, Prince Luke? As the Marquis le Sade once said: 'There is no pleasure without pain'! So–"

The black length wrapped around Luke's sword. A strong tug snatched it from the startled boy's grip and sent it flying into the audience– where it nailed the just-recovering Marc across the face.

"Urgh…" Marc toppled like the cherry tree a young George Washington axed.

"Nice shot, Triela!" Frederick cheered. "You saved me a lot of trouble!"

Triela gave him a flying kiss as acknowledgement.

Pino somehow resented that.

Luke found himself stumbling for both words and breathing space from Triela's relentless attacks. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

"I like Claes."

Luke fell on his butt, he was so surprised. "WHAT?" he and the similarly shocked Claes demanded.

"You heard me." Tanned cheeks showed a bit of red. "I like Claes."

"That isn't in the script!"

"I did hate her at first," Triela admitted in a distracted tone. "I hated her because she was everything I wasn't: well-read, well-meant and well-loved. I wanted to discredit her. To take what she had for my own self. To make her feel the same feelings of jealousy and hatred I felt."

"You're not listening to me," Luke muttered.

"And then," here the angry voice tapered off into that of a small and lonely girl, "And then I realized that I didn't really hate her. I didn't understand at first, but what I really felt for her was… love. I loved her. I wanted to be with her. I wanted her to love me."

The audience was sobbing. Well, the parts of them that was partial to lesbians, or who could appreciate romance for romance's sake, similar gender aside.

A suddenly depressed Frederick put his Luger pistol to his temple. Then he thought better and just beat the barely alive Marc to a bloody pulp with it, the better to feel better and stay alive just in case...

"But then you came, Luke." Triela's face twisted anew. "If you hadn't come along… You and Claes in Paris!" she screamed. "It was supposed to be **me**!"

Mireille choked at that all-too-familiar line.

**  
**Outside, Chloe sneezed.

"Bless you," Kirika, Yu Fang and Yu Lang told her.

"Thank you. Someone must be quoting me."

**  
**Triela aimed her whip at her enemy's face. "Luke! Die!" She leapt into the air for her final attack.

"Luke!" Giuseppe tossed his friend his kukri. "Catch!"

He did. Luke swung. As he struck, he yelled back: "Claes… is… mine!"

The whip was no match for finely-honed steel. Its black length fell apart into several small, useless pieces.

"Surrender now," Luke grimly ordered.

"Triela!" It was Frederick's turn to intervene. He tossed Triela her shotgun's slim bayonet. "**Stick** him real good!"

"Oh, I'll **skewer** him, all right!" Triela promised.

"Hey!" Luke protested. "And why are we still fighting? I mean… I have a **bigger** sword than she does!"

A long pall of silence descended upon the theater. Everyone stared.

"I mean," Luke hastily corrected. "It's **Giuseppe's** sword! I'm only borrowing it!"

More silence. Then Giuseppe said, "Luke. You made that sound **so** wrong."

"What?"

"Is Luke gay?" Elena asked Henrietta.

**  
**Ironic one-man applause sundered the dramatic silence like a thunderbolt would shatter stillness. Everyone looked up in reflex.

A man floated twenty feet above their heads, held there by an invisible giant's hand.

"Rolito!" Mireille exclaimed.

"Correction." No longer the man in black, for he wore an impeccably white business suit. He smirked down at everyone. "I am the Scriptwriter."

"The **what**?" almost everyone exclaimed.

"This wasn't in **my** script!" Director Mireille complained.

"You **bastard**!" Triela yelled. "You put me up to all this crap!"

"Initially, yes, it was me. But everything else was you." Rolito gestured at Triela. "And you. And you." With each additional 'you', he acknowledged key actors and actresses who had taken it into their heads to perform independently of the script: Terra, Petrushka, the whole bunch. "I decided to let you exert and enjoy yourselves. It all worked out fine, did it not? You troubled yourselves, and I profited."

Claes suddenly rose to the fore of the confused mob. "Why have you revealed yourself, Scriptwriter?" she demanded.

"Because **you**, Princess Claes, have revealed yourself."

"Me?"

"Yes. You, Claes, are the eventuality of an anomaly, which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of mathematical precision."

"…the what?" a perplexed Triela asked. Rolito chuckled.

"Claes is here because the script calls for her appearance, despite my efforts otherwise."

"Oh."

"Claes," Rolito informed the star of the play. "The problem is choice. There are two choices. To your left is the fanon hetero pairing, Luke, the Happily Ever After Ending." He gestured at Luke, who frowned at him.

"To your right is the unorthodox but popular lesbian pairing, Triela, which will be–" Rolito eyed the diced-up whip scattered across the stage floor "–**interesting**, to say the least."

Triela blushed.

"Why?" Claes coolly asked.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you doing this to me? Why are you forcing me to decide between–" she gestured to both Luke and Triela "–Two people I care for?"

Luke choked. Triela blushed even more.

"Why? The answer is simple." Rolito sneered a la G.D. Wallez. "Money."

"What?" everyone exclaimed.

"That's right. Money. Controversy creates cash." He produced a can of Pepsi Max from thin air. "And I need money." Rolito popped the can open and took a deep swill from it. He grimaced. "Bah. Coke tastes better."

The flippant admission enraged Claes. "You are a monster!" A finger stabbed accusingly at the Scriptwriter. "You do not belong to this world!"

"I didn't come here on my own will. I was called here by GSG fan readers, who wished to read fan fiction."

"Fan fiction? You pirate canon characters and use them for yourself!"

"Canon? What is canon?" Rolito tossed the half-empty Pepsi can away. It landed on Marc's head, knocking the Frenchie out again. "Stuff only the Japanese and the Canadians have access to due to licensing and distribution issues! But enough talk!" His katana, Masakari, appeared in his right hand. "Have at thee!"

Rolito leapt off the invisible Venom and descended upon Claes like Lucifer cast down from Heaven.

"Claes!" Luke and Triela tossed their blades towards their friend. "Catch!"

Metal rang upon metal. An epic sword fight like no other commenced. Everyone knew Claes was fast. Few thought she could actually double wield a kukri and a bayonet, and with great skill, at that. Even fewer expected Rolito to be just as fast, and he showed himself undoubtedly far more skilled, swordsman that he was.

Furious combat surged this way and that. The fighters ran this way and leapt that way, hacking and slashing and stabbing at each other's guard in an attempt to reduce the other party into bloody chopsuey.

"Sensei is scary," Giuseppe mumbled.

"Papa is **so** cool," Elena sighed.

Her brother gave her a weird look.

The kukri made a loud racket as it hit the floor. Luke gasped.

Claes stared at her reflection in the katana's curved length. She held herself completely still.

Rolito grinned. He moved his katana away from Claes, stepped back and kicked the kukri into the air so that Claes could catch it. "One more," he purred.

Claes grimly nodded. They fenced again, Claes slashing with the kukri and defending with the bayonet, Rolito a whirlwind of steel. In two minutes, it was Rolito's turn to be disarmed, his katana burying itself into the wooden stage floor, the bayonet at his throat.

Claes reached for the katana and pulled it out of the floor. She flipped it so that she held it by the flat of the blade and offered its handle to Rolito. "One more," she returned almost mischievously.

Rolito grinned and accepted.

Luke strangled a curse. "Why are they getting along so well?" he demanded of Giuseppe.

"Sensei always told me that if he could have one of the girls as his cyborg, he wanted Claes."

"What? Why?"

"He says Henrietta's too cute, Rico's too happy, Triela's too headstrong, Angelica is bad for his health–"

Angelica looked quizzical.

"–he says Angie's too sweet for him, and since the paternal side of his family has a history of hereditary diabetes…"

"…what?"

"Anyway, Beatrice is too quiet and Petrushka too disturbing," Giuseppe finished.

"Me?" Petrushka growled. "Disturbing?"

"He mentioned something in passing about crazy Americans, homemade movies and I-Pods…"

To everyone's surprise, Petra blushed. "Damn American," she muttered.

**  
**Somewhere unspecified, J.M. sneezed.

**  
**Rolito disarmed Claes yet again, this time of both her weapons. "It was fun, Princess Claes," he breathed. "Yet all good things must end. But first–"

The katana's sharp tip expertly sliced off Claes' gown's left sleeve. The cloth fell away, revealing a round white shoulder.

Despite knowing this was going to happen beforehand and the relatively small amount of skin revealed, Claes blushed.

**  
**In his grave, Raballo rolled about.

**  
**Henrietta and Elena covered Giuseppe's eyes, Mireille covered Jean's, Priscilla covered Jose's, Patricia and Angelica covered Marco's, and Elenora covered Fermi's. Triela kicked Marc in the face, knocking him out again, before covering Frederick's eyes.

Hilshire screamed like a sissy and ran out of the theater.

BOOM!

Lauro toppled. The wailing Elsa put her still-smoking pistol to her eye. The weapon promptly transformed into Megatron.

"I've waited a long time for this, Prime," Hugo Weaving's voice quavered.

"Why won't you let me die?" Elsa wailed.

**  
**Luke howled. "ROLITO! YOU PEDOPHILING BASTARD!!"

Giuseppe, Meir and Alpha (with their respective girlfriends also clinging to their faces) barely managed to hold the irate Israeli down. "LET ME GO!! HE'S STRIPPING CLAES!!"

"Not if I can help it." Triela pulled out a small silver tube. She aimed it at Rolito and pressed a small button on it. A little red dot appeared on the man's white pants leg.

A few feet away, a certain small white fluff ball spotted the red dot. Its china doll blue eyes narrowed even as its tail swished. It approached, silent as thought, steady as trickling water.

Claes's left sleeve fell off as well. All that was keeping her gown on were two spaghetti straps.

"Rolito…"

"I know what I'm doing. And if Triela does what we planned–"

Liora bit.

CHOMP

"**OW! PUTANG-"**

Rolito hopped around on one foot. The frightened Liora ran off.

Claes pulled out a familiar-looking golden comb. "You want to penetrate me?" She stabbed Rolito in the back with the ornament.

"Ah! Et tu, Brutus?"

Rolito staggered away from Claes. He stared at the audience, then at the distance, his hand futilely clawing at an invisible thing.

"Mamamatay akong hindi man makikita ang pagbubukang-liwayway ng aking Inang Bayan…"

He sung in an alien language, his tone soft and depressing, his voice and his body's motions getting weaker with each word, the lights around him dimming as a lone spotlight followed his erratic movement.

"Sa inyong makakakita, batiin ninyo Siya… at huwag kalimutan… ang mga naluklok... sa dilim… ng gabi…

So murmuring, Rolito fell backwards into Claes' arms. The two settled into a pose similar to the Pieta, a seated Claes carrying the "dead" Rolito, the spotlight shining down on them for a brief moment before flicking out, dropping the whole stage into darkness.

After a long moment of silence, the whole audience (that is, those who were still alive or conscious) rose on their feet and applauded.

"That was beautiful," Zangief whispered. His seatmates gave him long sideways looks.

"Do we kill him now," Vincent asked Leon, "Or do we wait for the play to end?"

"Pass me the silencer."

**  
**"Rolito?" was the whisper.

"Yeah, Claes?"

"Did you **have** to nearly **strip** me?"

"It's called fan service. Every anime has it."

"So it was all just to titillate the audience? No self-enjoyment involved?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Though I have to admit, Claes, I was rather disappointed that you'd never grow up. You could have been quite the hottie…"

"Uh… thanks… I think…"

"Not that I mind your current age right now…"

BONK

"Ow."

"Pedo."

**  
****NOT YET OVER!! WAIT FOR THE WRAP-UP!!**


End file.
